The Bosom of the Inferno
by Fanblob
Summary: In the midst of blinding, haphazard crimson, Zuko looks for a place where home means more than living habitation, more than a place to close his eyes for the night.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

**or**

**A Conversation Alienated from Everything Else**

He was in the red again. Alone. Completely enveloped. There were no walls closing in on him, no falling crumbling towers – just red, neither soft nor hard; just thick rich scarlet curling over every surface of his skin, some forcing their way into his pores, seeping into raw muscle, like blood tearing at the membrane of his lungs. He tried to call for help, someone, anyone, but like every other time, he knew nobody would hear. So again, he he struggled and ploughed his way to somewhere, anywhere, trying to wrench his arms free from the strong grasps of the red claws. He tried to ignore the pain that ripped through him, but every time he'd be compelled to watch flecks of his skin tear and his own blood run freely, staining the claws a deeper, darker red. Whispers pinched his earlobes, carrying the voice of Ozai and the venom of Azula's; the deep 'my son', the lilting 'good brother'. Then, he felt the gentle touch of a pale, thin hand, a smooth thumb cool against the thin skin at the underside of his wrist. This hand, so very familiar to the deeper, darker recesses of his mind, would then tug his arm gently, as though guiding him to his Somewhere. But then, like every other time, as he began to relax in the cradle of this somewhat familiar comfort, the hand was ripped away with a horrible shredding sound and a guttural shriek. The red grew black, scratching at the left side of his face and invisible hands pressed against his throat. His last thought was air. He needed air.

Mai awoke with a start. This happened every night since Zuko's coronation, since they had shared a bed, since they had begun sleeping in the very quarters that held Zuko's father and his dead grandfather, but that didn't mean she was used to the frantic whispers and dark, violent dreams that seemed to pervade Zuko's mind whenever darkness set. She placed a slightly trembling, warm palm on Zuko's cold, sweaty forehead. He leaned slightly into her touch and Mai, despite herself, couldn't help a small smile.

'Zuko,' she whispered in gentle, even tones, rubbing his arm, offering his subconscious comfort the only way she knew how.

He gave an involuntary twitch, his breathing becoming rough and desperate in short, shallow gasps. Mai pushed down the surge of panic, some still seeping into her widened, gold eyes.

'Zuko. Zuko! Wake up! Zuko!'

'Mom!' Zuko jerked awake with a hoarse, frightened shout, his back snapping into an upright seated position. A single bead of sweat trickled down his temple. His eyes rove frantically around the room and Mai's pale, unmoving features, disoriented and confused.

'Oh Mai, it's you,' he whispered as his brain registered the familiar face of the one he held dear, posture relaxing considerably, shoulders slumping as he took in a deep breath of air. Yet, Mai couldn't miss the hint of deep-seated disappointment buried in his gold eyes, the colour of dying embers of the fires in Ba Sing Se. Still, she swallowed the tinge of hurt, telling herself that she understood and collected the still slightly trembling Zuko in her arms, her hands stroking his hair. If he needed his mother, she would do her best to provide for him in ways she could.

They sat in silence for while, his head in her lap, letting the stormy winds and rough seas of the nightmare calm. Mai watched the rise of his chest slow, his breathing even out while drawing soft, soothing circles with her nail into his now-relaxed shoulder. With Yue's pale beauty pouring through their window, reflecting off Mai's alabaster skin, it was almost a perfect picture. Yet, it was incomplete; both of them feeling the need to talk about something they didn't know how to.

Mai spoke first, her voice even and perceivably toneless yet Zuko could tell it held depths of concern.

'This is getting bad. You've been having these nightmares increasingly frequently,' She paused, her eyes glancing downwards to look at Zuko for any hint of a reaction. He remained unmoving, only the slightest twitch of his toes told her he was listening. She frowned, the slight crease between her eyebrows marring the smoothness of her delicate features, waiting for some sort of response. A short pause stretched into a long silence and while both of them, quiet creatures by nature, usually enjoyed these silences, this one was far from companionable and was laden with unsaid unsettled thoughts and concerns.

Suddenly, something in Mai broke. It was as though the long drawn out silence had stretched out some elastic band of emotion, testing her. It had pulled and tugged and now, she snapped.

She threw Zuko off her lap, not missing the startled anxiousness that coated his features, and spun him forcefully around to face her.

'Okay, seriously, you're ticking me off! You refuse to tell me what's going on, telling me not to worry! How can I not worry when every bloody night you're calling for your mother or gasping like your heart has stopped! You've never had a good night's sleep since your coronation! Since you visited your father that very afternoon! And when I wake you up, you look like you don't want me here!'

As soon as those words left her mouth, Mai stopped herself with a jolt. She glanced up at Zuko apprehensively, who looked as startled as she felt. Mostly ashamed at herself for having no sort of control over her thoughts and her selfishness, she hastily lay down, back facing Zuko and pulled up the covers, and played the game every child knew, pretending to sleep.

Another uncomfortable silence passed with Mai's own loud chaotic thoughts thundering in her ears before she heard the soft flurry of sheets and the mattress squeaking to receive the weight of another body beside her. Then, again, there was no sound.

Mai waited, her innate feminine side expecting some form of comfort or at the very least, for Agni's sake, some form of a response. Nothing came, except for the soft cricket sounds carried by the warm summer breeze. Affronted at the thought that Zuko could have possibly gone back to sleep, she turned around sharply, only to meet Zuko's intense golden gaze. She felt the involuntary flooding of heat to her cheeks, half of it out of annoyance, half of it out of, well, whenever Zuko was close to her.

Watching Mai and her hint of embarrassment, Zuko smirked, as though a nightmare had been forgotten. But soon, the fleeting moment of mirth passed, he cast his gaze downwards and let out a soft sigh, unable to keep the tinge of sadness out of it. He gently flung his arm around Mai's waist, relishing in the smoothness of the thin silk of her nightdress and the comforting warmth that radiated from her skin beneath, before raising his eyes to look into her narrowed gaze again.

'You're beautiful when you're mad,' Zuko couldn't help but whisper. Mai tried her best at giving him a deadpan look but she knew he hadn't missed just the slightest upward quirk of her lip.

'Okay, you're right. You deserve to know. But I really don't want you to worry. I don't want you to encourage me to doing whatever I want to do because I know you will and -' Zuko was cut off with a sharp slap against his chest.

'Stop blabbering and being such a doofus,' Mai said with a roll of her eyes. Then, before the mood could take another dip into sentimentality, she added, still embarrassed by her earlier outburst, 'Hurry up, I want to sleep,'

Zuko allowed himself a little grin before casting his gaze on the table lamp behind her, 'I don't know what I dream about. I forget once I wake up. All I know is that I...,' he paused to swallow uncertainly, 'I think I find my mom,' Now, he stared straight into Mai's eyes, and Mai couldn't help but be taken back at his earnestness, as she did every time.

'I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I don't mean to doubt you,' she whispered, almost inaudibly, 'I know that disappointment is when you wake up and realise that it's just a dream. That well, you know you didn't actually...' she couldn't bring herself to say what was all too obvious. 'But I know that your dreams frighten you. You may not remember but you cry out and well, it scares me too. Remember what you said when we first stepped into these quarters? You said that it was weird sleeping where your father once did and your grandfather and Sozin and well, I think it's getting to you. I think you're scared of the position of Fire Lord and the only way you're facing this is your subconscious desiring that comfort you had when you first faced similar pressures,'

Zuko stared at her and smiled. Sometimes, Mai really did know him better than he did himself. Pulling her closer, he said softly, 'I have you,' expecting her to snuggle closer, preparing for finally, a good night's sleep, as little night there was left.

Instead, she whispered too matter-of-factly, 'But I'm not enough,'

Shocked, Zuko jerked away to stare at her straight in the eyes, 'Mai! I thought you said-You- You know I love you! How could you ever doubt me or yourse-'

Mai rolled her eyes, this time, snuggling closer and declared in her characteristic deadpan tone, 'Stop it. Stop worrying. I didn't mean anything by it. A child has an unbreakable bond with his mother. Like you and your mom. She loved you and cared for you and you still remember it, even if it was a long time ago. My mom left me to the servants, I never got to have that bond with her,' she said, with no spite in her voice and when Zuko tried to cut in, she continued, 'I'm just stating facts. I'm not saying she never loved me but I never did get to spend time with her like you did with your mom at the turtleduck pond or walking along corridors. Now just kiss me, and let me go to sleep,'

Zuko stared at her uncertainly, he really didn't know what to expect with Mai, another reason why he loved her. He didn't know what to feel, or how to respond to everything she just said. Did she mean what she said or did she, like how girls were known to be, say something but mean another? Tentatively, he bowed his head towards her slowly, deciding to go with whatever she wanted, but when his lips touched her dry, slightly chapped yet soft ones and he felt the warmth of her breathe tickle his chin, he knew one thing for sure, that she was probably right.


	2. The Faraway Blur

**The Faraway Blur**

The beginning of anything began like this; when the world was nothing but a blank canvas, no blackness or whiteness because even then that would be a something. It just was, there but not there all at once, something like what people now, regardless if they were from the Water Tribe or Air Nomads or Earth Kingdom or Fire Nation, would call 'something at the back of your mind' or simply 'haunting'.

This was because all the spirits still lived on the other side.

There was the ostracized Spirit of the Muddied Water River (Zhang Shui), the child of the Spirit of the Limestone (Xiao Shi), the gentle Spirit of Autumn Wind (Piao) and above all, there was the Lord of all spirits, infinitely aged and infinitely wise, the Spirit of Light (Guang) but to everyone else, known as Huang Guang. And always beside him was his Lady, the nurturing but relentless Spirit of the Earth, who went by so many names that everyone had taken to simply calling her 'Mother'.

The spirits lived far from glamorous lives. Apart from the Lord and His Lady, there was no other hierarchy, no power, no 'who was more important'. Instead, they lived amongst each other, the quiet willow by the raging river, the sunshine riding the light breeze. They lived in harmony.

But after a boundless period of time (it could have been a millennium, a second, the passing of the Solstice or when the sunlight hit the northeast) the Lord decided that it was not enough. They were spirits, powerful; they could give more. And so, the line between the two sides was blurred and the Lord passed his decree that all spirits could now paint on what was then the blank canvas.

Mother was angry. The Lord had not consulted her, he had failed to fully consider the consequences and she ordered, then tried to persuade, then rationalized, then pleaded that he retract his decree. The Lord refused - to do so would make him seem like an incapable ruler. Mother insisted; allowing the spirits to cross over, even for a fleeting moment would make things tangible, and greed, selfishness, conceitedness would be birthed.

The Lord had dismissed her.

But as time passed, (it could have been a millennium, a second, the passing of the Solstice or when the sunlight hit the northeast) Mother proved to be right. The spirits grew selfish. The Seas grew hungry and began to chip at the Lands, demanding more. The Sun grew lazy, and began to tire easily. The Lands, daughters of Mother herself, grew vain and began to discriminate against the spirits of flowers and trees, the ugly ones were turned away.

The Lord was at a loss, the spirits no longer listened to him; they believed themselves to be too great. _He_ had believed himself to be too great.

At last, swallowing his pride, he turned to Mother. She gazed at him with a critical eye, and the Lord felt the tremors of her frustration. Yet, even as her gaze cut through the beautiful, but sullied canvas, she said nothing. Instead, that very night, when the Sun retired for his now daily hour of decadence (much to the displeasure of his father, the Lord), she cast into form her first Guardian of the Earth.

These Guardians of the Earth would roam this other side continually, their watchful eyes unceasing and unwavering. Being formed by her very own hands, they were inherently Earth. Those unwanted spirits of the Flora and Fauna would find homes on their backs and these Guardians would readily bear the burdens of these spirits. Yet, they were also in continuous contact with the spirits of the Seas, their paws sensitive to every angry current or distraught wave. The Guardians would nourish the spirits of the trees and flowers, they would look to the sunshine and feel the caress of the Autumn Breeze or the Winter Chill. They would live in harmony again.

And they did. And all became well.

Until two spirits, with a vague recollection of how exciting things had been in the chaos, decided, in a joint, ironically harmonious rebellion, to cross over. For good.

The Lord was furious. The rest of the spirits remained quiet. The Sun remained tense without rest in fear of his father. The Spring Breeze stopped her song.

Days passed but Lord's anger had not subsided. Instead, he grew more angry and with his anger, came irrationality. In his fit of fury, his wrath scorching the lands, the Lord swore to bring them back, even if it meant dragging his nails through their now slimy forms. With this firm resolution solely in his mind's eye, he took the one damning step.

But while the Lord saw punishment and discipline to quash rebellion, Mother saw that robbing the two spirits of their now permanent forms would bestow severe imbalance and damage to both worlds. Again, she tried to warn him. Again, she was too late.

Mother, anxious and frantic, gathered her guardians. Then, with a benign smile and a soft but firm reminder to 'be good', she followed in the Lord's footsteps and crossed over.

What happened after Mother crossed over remains a mystery. Perhaps she managed to persuade the Lord, perhaps she hid the two blameful runaway spirits. Perhaps. But what was known for sure was that she never came back. She and her guardians had disappeared.

Instead, in the place of her first footfall into the tangible world was, what the Lord called, the gift of harmony - found at the feet of the Lord as he retracted his grief-ridden steps back to where all spirits originally belonged.

Stricken with guilt, the Lord opened the gift slowly, only to find the remnants of the guardians' souls stripped down to their rawest quality – water, earth, fire, air, forming a tight ring of unity, sparkling with promises of unending harmony.

The Lord, humbled by Mother's ability to create such selfless beings by her hand, gathered the spirits, both the willing and the unwilling, to birth the very first man and woman, in the likeness of his Lady. Then, as a testament to her quiet and unwaning strength, he embedded into one, the ring of unity; the one who would responsible for the harmony, the one that we now call the Avatar.

* * *

><p>A great amount of time has passed. Perhaps it has been a millennium or even a few millennia and what was known as the Truth has become what man now deems as a mere folktale.<p>

But even so, we find, almost in the center of a labyrinth of wood and red paint, a perfect square of green and in the center of that perfect square of green stands a tree which at the moment offers shade to a woman, a Lady.

The lady is sitting with her back against the bark, pillowed by the thick red robes that is an almost jarring break in the serenity of the scene. Beside her sit two younglings, much in her likeness, the boy slightly more so than the girl. They all hold a kind of bread in their hands, and the girl who is sitting slightly more apart is only left with a piece slightly bigger than her thumbnail. Even though the boy has more left, the girl is silent and all remains quiet except for the rhythmic splashing of the water when they throw the bread into the pond and the sound of a lilting voice and carries gently in the breeze.

The Lady is speaking. More accurately, she is telling the two younglings of the Truth, the mere folktale, except now the Lord is known as The Father (perhaps a better accompaniment to 'Mother'), the Sun is less lazy and the Spirit of the Winds are forgotten.

Quite abruptly, the lilting stops. The Lady has appeared to have finished her story. The boy, who appears the younger of the two from the way he is tucked into his mother's side, casts his gaze unto the grass and does not give any hint that he has liked or understood the story, except for the gnawing of his bottom lip. The girl on the other hand, stands up and brushes her red silk-cladded knees. A spark, one that seemed to have been lost in the somber mood of the tale, is regained in her eyes and they twinkle with a sense of precociousness and easy guile.

Yet, she too does not say anything. Instead, she walks six paces from her companions in quick, measured steps until she stops, her back facing them, ram-rod straight, almost parallel to the thick bark of the tree.

There is another moment of almost complete stillness as the girl breathes in deeply. The little square courtyard breathes with her.

Then with jolting swiftness, the girl snaps into movement, a series of hard lines and stern angles with torrents of fire, so orange, almost red bursting from her clenched fists.

Her companions sit unmoving, forgotten under the dark shade of the large tree, watching intently. There is a certain subtle pride in gentle eyes of the lady and the corners of her thin lips lift.

The moment is almost suddenly broken as she feels a shift in the warmth at her side. The boy's shoulders are hunched, curling into himself and the lady notices that he is trying to move away from her quietly. With an inaudible sigh, she smoothens the boy's sleeve, the warmth of her palm a slight comfort through the thick red robes.

The boy startles and looks up with wide eyes. Then, even though the touch of his mother is faint, he smiles a small faltering smile.

But the smile drops much quicker than it took to rise, like a blade of grass that tries to stand but gets trampled so often it eventually dies. The look of pensive melancholy is out of place yet comfortable on his features.

The boy's mouth opens a mere breath and somehow a passing breeze manages to catch the cracks of his whisper.

"Mothers won't actually do that though right? Leave their loved ones just to save the day? Right, Mother?"

The girl continues her sequence with unwaning sharpness. Her only reaction to having heard the boy's question is the almost involuntary rolling of her eyes. She is too far to hear the lady's response – a reassurance most probably, it should not matter. The girl cannot help but feel that the boy has missed the point of the story once again.


End file.
